Getting lost on Saturday and Sunday morning, while stressful, does however have perks. If time permits, any garage sale sign may serve as my beacon of hope, furnishing immediate calming.
Anyway, “therapist” called to say she would be late. So while squandering time and gas, I lost my way. As if by magic, a garage sale appeared in my path. From the street, a shiny Kettler Trike grabbed my eye. Affirming my need for "therapy", I spun an erratic u-turn, scrambled to the tricycle where a little girl was lingering, and seized it before she could wave her mother over. I paid my $4 and fled with trike in hand. What kind of person does that? One who needs therapy.